I Know, I Was There
by Lady Shadiait
Summary: I am an Angel from God, my next assignment? National Treasure's own Riley Poole. This should be interesting.
1. Interruption

This is my third assignment, butthey are not related, so my Angelhas no recollection of the other stories.

Disclaimer: I do not own Ben Gates, Riley Poole, etc. I think they belong to Disney.

Credit to the inspiration goes to Morph, and her stories: "Nightcrawler Spirit", "Sparrow Spirit", and "Skinner Spirit".

Please R&R.

I Know, I Was There

"It's pretty, I think," I murmured, bored.

"I love it!" Thelma exclaimed, bouncing with excitement.

Thelma is the closest thing I have to a best friend. Which is odd because we are polar opposites: she looks like she's in her thirties, but acts like a little kid when she's excited. I look seventeen, and try to act sensible, especially around her or when I'm on an assignment.

Both of us were between assignments and had gotten permission to take three hours of personal time. (Three hours is not even the blink of an eye when you've existed since before the world began and will exist after it comes to an end, however.) We had dubbed ourselves Thelma and Louise, just for the heck of it, and we were enjoying window-shopping in New York City. Thelma thought everything was incredible, and I just nodded along. I never changed my look unless I needed to, to blend in. I was assigned to a Goth girl once and wore a corset and stilettos, along with the black lipstick and eyeliner, for three weeks. Thelma is fashion obsessed, which is a little…well, weird for an angel.

We're both angels, you know, from Heaven? We get assigned to those who need our guidance or support. But sometimes, the world is at peace enough that they can afford to give some of us the day off.

Today was supposed to be my day off.

"What are you doing?"

Thelma and I both jumped, and spun around to find our supervisor scowling at us. "Anthony!" we both squeaked, he was one of the lucky angels who has a permanent name, so we know who to report to.

"Yes, and you are…?"

"Thelma."

"Louise."

Anthony's eyebrows raised, he shook his head slightly, unable to hide the grin that spread across his face. I had to smile as well, and Thelma giggled.

"Well, 'Louise', I'm afraid I have to interrupt your fun."

I put on a fake pout, "awww, okay."

"You'll have fun with this one, I promise."

"The last time you said that, you sent me to a mentally unstable woman who was pregnant with twins."

"That wasn'tfun?"

"Who is it this time?"

"Well, come with me and I'll show you."

I sighed, waved good-bye to Thelma, and hung onto his arm, as we ascended together.

"Honestly, Louise, I'm sorry to interrupt your day off, but they higher authorities want you to handle this one."

"Which higher authorities?"

"The ultimate One."

My eyes widened, "God Himself is sending me?"

"Apparently, we need someone who was doing what you were doing during the American Revolution."

"I was in Historical Documentation during the American Revolution, Anthony. I kept a constant report of the happenings, but I wasn't a TAG then." A TAG is a: _Temporary Angelic Guardian_.

"You remember everything that happened; or most of it?"

"Of course, nearly everything, that was my job."

"Good, then you're perfect."

"Who is this guy that you're assigning me too?" We were flying over ice and snow, I could see a camp ahead of us, "And where are we?"

"Artic Circle, not far from the Pole, as for you're assignment," he pointed to a man argueing with a Computer, "That's him there."


	2. Proof without Evidence

'Angel' (named in this chapter) meets Riley, and has to work hard to prove herself. enjoy.

* * *

He landed gently a few feet from the camp, "You're on your own from here, Louise."

"I think I'll take on a different identity for this assignment," I told him to tease him.

"Sure, but listen," he grabbed my shoulders, dead serious, and held my eyes firmly, "You were specifically chosen for this, that comes with a heavy responsibility. Keep your eyes open, think before you act, be careful; you understand me?"

"Y…yes, Sir," I stammered. I could feel nervousness mounting inside me, clogging my throat and freezing my heart. Slowly, he released me.

Anthony produced a heavy jacket from somewhere, "You'll need this."

"Thank-you," I mumbled, taking it and slipping it on. "I won't let you down, Anthony."

"I'm not the one you need to promise," he reminded me, and then he disappeared right before my eyes.

_So that's what it looks like_, I thought to myself, as I had vanished before the eyes of many people, having told them that now I had to leave them. I had become a TAG because I wanted to meet humans and understand them better. I had not thought about the fact that I would have to leave them all behind someday. And when you're eternal, you have to leave a lot of people. After the first two or three, you learn not to get so emotionally involved, but sometimes, you can't help but form true and strong friendships. It happened to the best of us.

"Brief me," I muttered, closing my eyes. Information rushed to me though my mind's eyes. I nodded silently as I registered everything. I opened my eyes, and raised them to Heaven, "What makes me so special?" I questioned, "There are others so much more capable."

I received no answer, but fixed my eyes straight ahead, on my assignment. _This is going to be interesting_. Floating just above the snow, so as not leave footprints, I cautiously approached him.

"Riley Poole?" I asked, now standing over his shoulder.

"Who, what?" he spun around to face me. Upon seeing me, his eyes narrowed, "Who are you? Beyond that, how did you get here? We're in the middle of a frozen nowhere…"

"Easy, easy," I protested, raising both hands to my chest level, palms outward, "I'm an Angel, Riley, from God." I allowed a soft glow to surround myself as I spoke.

Riley blinked a few times, then looked up at me, squinting, "With all the glare from the snow, you look like you're glowing."

"It's not the snow, Riley, it's me."

"There's no such thing as angels, and how do you know my name?" He demanded, rushing the two unrelated topics together, momentarily throwing me off track. He studied me with piercing blue eyes, his scientific skepticism clearly revealed in his disbelieving tone.

"I know your name because they told me."

He frowned, shaking his head slightly, "Who, Ben and Ian?"

I cringed; this was not going well, "No, my superiors. I am an Angel; I'm here to help you and take care of you."

"Well, 'angel'," I could hear the sarcasm in his voice, "Do you have a name?"

I don't, and I didn't want to go by Louise, so I grabbed a random name, "You can call me Robin," I told him. I floated up off the ground, hovering a couple meters in the air. "Believe me now?"

Riley's eyes widened, "I have got to be dreaming." He slipped off his gloves and pinched the skin between his forefinger and thumb. "Naahh! Okay, I'm awake." He sat silently for a moment, thinking, and then turned his face back to me, "So, if you are an angel, why would you be talking to me? Ben's the one running this show."

"I am visible to your eyes and ears only, Riley. But you can't tell anyone about me. If you do I leave before I'm meant to, and then I can't help you." _And I've been specially picked for this, for reasons unknown even to myself. _

"Okay, but why me?"

_Same question_ _here_, I thought, "Because you were chosen."

"You are the queen of unhelpful answers."

I couldn't help but laugh. Riley stared at me, clearly annoyed. "Well, Robin," he continued, "Are we wasting our time out here, or is there really a treasure?" I returned half a smirk, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you think?"

Riley turned back to his computer resting on the table, pushing it out of the way, and dropped his head into his folded arms. "You see what I mean?" he demanded, raising his face slightly, "You can't give an answer that makes any sense."

"After working with Ben I though you'd be used to that," I joked. Riley smiled and snickered. "I'm not permitted to tell you if there is a treasure or not, Riley," I explained, "Just like I'm not allowed altering any of the events that will unfold over the course of the next few days."

"Yeah, sure, right," he replied, and I knew I'd lost him. He returned to his computer. "Are angels any good with computers?"

"What are you trying to do?"

"Well, Ben's got this theory that 'Charlotte' is a ship that was caught in a storm and ended up way out here. I'm trying to track where, after hundreds of years of unpredictable weather and currents, where a ship would end up. I think we're pretty close. I just can't seem to figure out what obvious fact I'm missing."

"Well," I replied, "We're not standing on solid ground, after all, were standing on ice. Do you suppose that the land mass we're on could move? If you enter that into your calculations, maybe you'll find your answers."

He turned to me, this time his eyes were dancing, "That's it! You've got it! Ice is only semi-solid, so the entire land-mass has the ability to re-locate…" he trailed off and began rapidly typing. After about ten minutes, he let out a loud 'Whoop'. "I know where it is!" he leapt up and hugged me tightly, before grabbing the computer and racing off to find Ben. I stood in the snow for a moment, startled, before I lifted myself up again, and quickly followed him.


	3. Discovery At The Top Of The World

Sorry this took so long. To make up for it, this is probably the longest chapter I've ever written or ever will.

Robin seems to have earned Riley's trust, but its kind of evident they don't see eye to eye.

Please R&R

* * *

I pitied Ben when I found him. Riley was talking so fast that it was impossible to understand what he was saying, and some of the things he _sounded_ like he was saying were not exactly everyday language used by angels.

"Calm down, Riley," I instructed, floating over his shoulder. If I set myself down, I would leave footprints in the snow that couldn't be explained. I placed both my hands on his shoulders to quiet him. "Take deep breaths."

Riley took my advice, taking a couple of deep breaths, and collected himself. "I figured it out, Ben! Where the Charlotte is! Here!" he showed Ben his computer calculations, talking about things that made no sense to me. Ben just stood nodding, until Riley must have said something he understood, because he laughed joyously and tore out of the tent.

"It worked!" Riley exclaimed to me, "We did it!"

"Your opinion of me changed in a hurry," I observed. Riley didn't seem to here me.

Within the hour, the camp had been dismantled and packed into two jeep-like vehicles, one of which had a blade on the front, like that of a bulldozer. _Or a snowplow_, I thought. "All right," Ben cheered as he clamored into the driver's seat. "Let's go treasure hunting!" He turned to Riley, and me, although he didn't know it, "Riley, were you planning on coming?"

"Yeah, just a sec," Riley called. He was tugging on the laces of his boots. He pulled harder, and one of the laces broke off in his hand. He stared at me with a look of fear.

"Tie the ends together and come on," I urged him.

"That's a bad sign," he protested; gazing at the shoelace fragment as if it were a live snake.

"Poppycock, one who doesn't believe in angels shouldn't believe in nonsensical superstition."

Reluctantly, Riley tied the two ends together, tied his boots, and climbed into the back of the vehicle Ben and Ian were using. Ian's goons rode in the one with the blade, following slightly behind us.

Riley returned to his computer, using GPS units in the two vehicles to track our location in relation to the Charlotte's approximated location. I sat beside him and peered at the computer screen over his shoulder. Watching, it slowly began to make sense. I knew that, if nothing else, I would be walking away knowing more about computers than I had ever previously known.

After a while, my gaze drifted from the computer to the beautiful expanse of snow and ice outside the window. It went on for miles, white ice, blue sky, and nothing else. One of the few places on Earth still untouched and unscarred by humans. Well, that was, until now.

"Have you ever seen anything like this Riley?" I asked him.

"Hmm? Mmm-mnn," was his response. I looked over at him; he was still staring at his computer, not really listening to me.

"Look out the window," I told him. He did, probably to humor me. I saw the look of awe on his face as he realized the wide expanse of pristine snow. I had seen that look before. It was the kind of expression a person can only get from experiencing God's wonders. "See?" I asked, leaning close to him, "Some things don't need science to be wonderful."

"I was thinking about Henson and Perry," Ben's voice reached us from the front, "Crossing this kind of terrain with nothing more than dog sleds and on foot. Can you imagine?"

"It's extraordinary," Ian determined.

"It is, indeed," I agreed.

Riley's computer beeped loudly, and he turned from the window back to his data, "We getting closer?" Ian asked from ahead of us.

"Assuming Ben's theory is correct and my tracking model's accurate we should be getting _very_ close," Riley responded, earning a small smile from me, "But don't go by me, I broke a shoelace this morning." I rolled my eyes dramatically. Ian and Ben exchanged glances, "It's…it's a bad omen," Riley insisted.

"Shall we turn round and go home?" Ian joked,

"Or we could pull over and just throw him out here," Ben suggested. Both of them laughed.

Riley gave a sarcastic laugh in return, "Okay," he said angrily, attempting to stop the jokes. It didn't work.

"Riley," Ben mocked, "You're not missing that little windowless cubicle we found you in, are you?"

"No, no, absolutely not," Riley determined, a little too quickly. I giggled quietly, turning so he couldn't see the smile I was trying so desperately to suppress.

The computer made a series of quick, urgent sounding beeps; I quickly turned my attention back to it. 'TARGET REACHED', it read above the words 'CHARLOTTE MAPPING'. Ben quickly applied the brake to stop the vehicle, and the driver of the other one followed suit. Ben and Ian opened the doors, and stepped out onto the caterpillar tires. They stayed there a moment, surveying the wide, unmarred expanse of snow, gleaming in the sunlight. I stared too, but for different reasons. Riley was still fiddling with his computer.

"Why are we stopping?" Shaw demanded as he stepped into the sunlight, "I though we were looking for a ship!"

"I don't see any ship," another one of Ian's minions, whose name, I was pretty sure, was Phil.

"Just because you can't see something doesn't means it's not there!" I retorted. He couldn't hear me, of course, but I was still determined to give him my opinion. Besides, he couldn't see _me_, but I was most defiantly there.

"She's out there," Ben replied confidently. He stepped down from the tire and began searching through the equipment until he located the metal detectors. He passed one to everyone, including Riley who had stopped his arguments with his computer and exited the vehicle. Riley stared blankly at the metal detector.

"Ben? How's this going to help?"

"Well, the ship's not made entirely out of wood Riley, the nails, cannons, and all manner of other parts would have been made of iron or bronze, which will cause a reading on the metal detector." His voice was slightly impatient, and seemed to carry a tone of, _do I have to explain everything to you?_ He switched his on and began walking, sweeping half circles in front of him with it.

Riley stared at his again, "Oh," then proceeded to attempt to find the power switch. After about a minute of searching, he located it, turned it on, and began walking in a different direction. Everyone spread out, searching for some trace of metal. The heavy silence punctuated with the electronic beeping of the detectors. It seemed somehow wrong for a sound like that to be heard in this part of the world, a part best left alone.

Floating above the snow, I followed Riley, who was pouting slightly about the way Ben had treated him. "Riley," I suggested gently, "I think we're walking in the wrong direction."

"Yeah, but Ben's in the other direction," Riley pointed out in a voice portraying that his feelings were hurt, as well as a slight indignant note. I noticed that his voice rose slightly as he let his emotions out, and, as his voice was not deep to begin with, he sounded almost feminine.

"He just doesn't appreciate you, Riley," I told him, half sarcastic, half true. Riley gave that little smirk I had already come to find amusing and nodded slightly.

I saw Shaw approaching us and shushed Riley quickly. "Look," Shaw demanded, "This is a waste of time. How could a ship wind up way out here?"

"Well," Riley mused, "I'm no expert, but…" he let his eyes wander over the snow stretching outward to the horizon, "It could be that hydrothermic properties of this region produce hurricane force ice storms that cause the ocean to freeze and then melt and then refreeze, resulting in a semisolid migrating landmass that would land a ship right around here." He finished his statement with a tone similar to Ben's. Then he gave a slight nod, and turned to start walking in the other direction.

"No expert- yeah, right," I teased as we walked.

"Your idea"

"Hydrothermic properties? Migrating landmass? I don't remember using those terms."

"Well…" he hesitated, then rolled his head onto his shoulder to look at me, "I only said that stuff because I wanted to sound smart."

I laughed, and punched him gently in the shoulder, I opened my mouth to retort, but found that I had nothing to actually say. I just laughed again. Riley chuckled himself, head hanging in mock embarrassment.

Then we heard Ben start laughing insanely from several meters away. Riley and I looked at each other, then he turned and began running through the snow, as best he could, towards him, I kept pace.

Ben had unearthed, or perhaps un-snowed would be more appropriate, the bell belonging to the ship. He was using his hands and a pick to try and uncover the rest of the ship. Everyone threw down their metal detectors and began helping. I helped Riley dig, throwing snow behind me. I went unnoticed in the frenzy.

"Careful!" Ben was saying, "Careful! This is delicate!"

"It's lasted this long," Riley puffed to me, "Why should how we dig it out matter?"

"It's an artifact, it lasts because it's been preserved by the conditions," I reminded him, doing my best not to sound too much like Ben, "When you remove the conditions, it becomes very fragile. Like when they handle ancient or historical documents." I was throwing out a hint at what I knew would occur later.

Finally, with the use of the bulldozer vehicle, we uncovered the entire ship. "It wasn't buried very deep," Phil remarked.

"Well," Riley replied, "It doesn't snow much here, really. It's too cold most of the year for any form of precipitation. What little does fall doesn't melt, so that's how it stays snow-covered. But with the effects of global warming, the melting rate may have increased. Also high speed winds blow through this region all the time, so they may have blown some of the snow away."

"That's right, Riley," Ben praised from where he was examining he way into the ship's galley and hull, "I didn't know you knew that."

Riley just shrugged, but when Ben wasn't looking, he broke into a cocky little smile, and nodded enthusiastically to himself.

Ben and Ian were talking, I wasn't really listening, but I did hear Ian say, "That's why I didn't think it was as crazy an investment as everyone said."

"I'm just relieved I'm not as crazy as everyone says, or said my dad was, or my granddad, or my great-granddad!" Both Ben and Ian laughed. I smiled; _crazy is only a frame of mind_.

"Okay!" Ben determined, standing and pulling off his goggles, "Let's go!"

Riley and I hesitated as the other's hurried, with loud determination, toward the entrance. I lingered behind him as he approached the body of the ship. I studied the figurehead, worn smooth from the salty sea spray hundreds of years ago. I reached out to touch her face, feeling the coldness of the wood from being buried in the snow for so long. She was smiling ever so slightly, like she was keeping a secret. "You've got your secrets," I whispered to her, "You've been keeping them for centuries, haven't you?"

"Robin!" Riley called, "Are you coming?" I raised my other hand to signal I'd be only a moment, then slowly let my fingers slide away from the figurehead's face. Unable to tear my eyes from it, I slowly headed in Riley's direction.

As we descended into the galley of the ship, I could hear the soft, low whispers of the secrets and the souls that lingered within the wooden walls. I felt Charlotte was about to share her secrets with us.


	4. Charlotte

Grettings all! No, I didn't fall off the face of the Earth. My brother might if he runs off with my DVD again. Grrrrr... Anyway. Here's a longer chapter, hope you like it.

R&R

* * *

The inside of the ship's galley was coated in a layer of snow and ice; making the objects inside appear to be ghosts. They were, after a fashion, the ghosts of an era long since passed. Another set of doors in the floor led into the lower part of the galley, where the crew would have lived.

The doors were forced open with pry bars. Icicles had formed on the underside of the doors, and now stuck straight up in sharp spikes. It seemed as if they were a last, desperate attempt to protect what was below. Ignoring any warning, the party descended.

The space seemed to be filled by ghosts momentarily, until one became accustomed to the dim light, and realized that they were actually the frozen hammocks, still suspended from their hooks. Here, I knew, many men had perished to the cold.

Riley was all smiles, excited simply by the fact that he was treasuring hunting, I assumed. He pushed one of the hammocks aside, and found himself staring directly into the face of a long-dead corpse. The man had probably frozen to death in his sleep, and had been mummified by the cold, dry conditions of the artic.

Riley's mouth opened wide in shock, he gave several failed attempts to scream, and fell backward, hitting the ground hard and scrambling backward in a sort of desperate crab-walk. "Oh, God!"

_Aptly spoken_, I thought to myself, gazing around at the ice sheathed bodies that surrounded us. Riley had since struggled to his feet. Ben gave him an exasperated look. "You handled that well," he remarked with dry sarcasm. Riley was now looking around in terror, suddenly aware of the many 'ghosts' that haunted this ship.

"This is it!" Ben exclaimed, examining a door that had been frozen closed, "It's a cargo hold!"

One of the men seized the latch on the door, pulled hard, breaking through the ice and snow, and forcing the door to open. Looking over his shoulder, I could see that Riley's smile had returned. The hold inside was filled with cannons, hundreds of yards of rope, assorted supplies that would have been common for such a voyage, and several dozen wooden barrels. The silence flooding the room seemed to be almost tangible. _'There wasn't a breath in that land of death'_, the words of Robert Service echoed in my mind. How true they were at this moment.

Riley was the first to break the gathering silence, "Maybe it's in the barrels?" he suggested, meaning the treasure. I felt that those who knew of the treasure would have been so foolish as to transport all of it at once. If they had chosen to move it at all.

Ian and his goons began breaking open barrels. Inside all the found was black powder, some coarse, some fine. I knew what it was; I had seen it used for centuries. Ian scooped some up in his hand, letting it run through his fingers. He brought his glove up to his face, "Gunpowder," he determined, recognizing its scent.

Riley was examining a plug in one of the barrels. He lifted the short length of frost-stiffened rope attached to it, and the plug fell out entirely. More black gunpowder came pouring from the hole. Riley gave an exclamation, and stooped to try and retrieve the plug. By the time he had managed to get it, most pf the gunpowder had poured out.

I, meanwhile, had slipped off to explore somewhat. One of Ian's henchmen had left a barrel open. I ran some of the gunpowder though my fingers. I remembered the smell, and the sulfuric stench it left when it exploded. I remembered the roar of the explosions. Suddenly, violently, a flood of memory hit me, and I was back on the battlefields of the American Revolution. Men were shouting, screaming, many lay dieing. I was powerless to help, able only to observe. I saw the bloodshed that turned the ground crimson. The stench of the cannons filled the air, accompanied by their smoke. Explosions came from all sides. Hundreds of angels, one for every soldier, were present, and many weeping desperately, as if they would never stop. The Soul Collectors at their work, or ready for duty. I remember looking to my own kind in terror, silently begging them for some explanation….

I shook my head to collect myself, forcing these memories back. I was going to have to be careful to avoid any future flashbacks. Our vivid, all consuming flashbacks are sort of like waking nightmares.

Ben was not far from me, examining another ice mummy I had not yet noticed. This one was clinging to one of the barrels. Even with the ice and snow, it was clear from his clothing he had been the captain of the _Charlotte_.

"Why would the captain be guarding this barrel?" I heard Ben muse out loud. Carefully, almost tenderly, he loosened the captain's fingers from the barrel, and tipped it over, spilling its contents onto the floor. Just beneath the surface of the gunpowder was an object. Ben dug out some of the gunpowder and revealed something, carefully wrapped in a heavy canvas and tied with a piece of tough leather. Ben managed to pry it out of the barrel. "I found something!" he called to the others, who were milling about.

Ian and Riley approached him from opposite sides. I hovered a foot or so off the ground, hanging over Riley's shoulder. Ben had placed the bundle he had discovered on the edge of a crate. "What is it?" Riley questioned eagerly, leaning in close to see better. Nimbly, he managed to untie the leather strap that kept the bundle closed. Ben drew back the canvas wrapping; inside lay a carved box, with a beautiful lid of inlayed metal, crafted with three designs. The middle one was of a large bird rising in flight, the design reminded me of the Phoenix of legends.

Ben opened the lid, revealing a carved and engraved ivory pipe nestled against blue satin. The stem bore beautiful, intricate scrollwork; the rest of the pipe was modeled after a battlement and turret of a castle, complete with figures lining the walls and a knight on horseback. Both he and Ian breathed in awe as Ben gently removed the pipe from the box.

"Do you guys know what this is?" Ben asked. I nodded, even though he couldn't see me, I knew what it was.

"Is it a billion dollar pipe?" Riley guessed hopefully. Ben and Ian chuckled, Ian reached over to take the pipe form Ben and examine it.

"It's a meerschaum pipe," he chuckled, turning it over in her hands. "Ah, that is beautiful." Again, Ian and I were forced to agree, I thought so not only for physical beauty, but for the hours of delicate labor that had lovingly been poured into its creation; in this pipe, an echo of the artist's hands. It seemed to me that, in this modern age of mass automated production, beauty and craftsman ship had been all but forsaken.

"Look at the intricacy of the scrollwork on the stem," Ben pointed out, indicating the lovingly detailed pattern, carved into the solid ivory. I looked closer as well, and noted that there seemed to be something, like some sort of symbols indicated by the engravings, but I couldn't quite determine what they were.

"Is it a million-dollar pipe?" Riley tried again.

"No," Ben told him, "It's a clue." He reached over to take the pipe from Ian, "Let me see that."

Carefully, Ben twisted, pulled… and the stem separated from the rest. I knew that pipes of the like had once been used to hide secret messages inside. "No, don't break it!" Riley protested.

"It's supposed to come apart, Riley," I whispered, "It snaps back in."

Ben looked very satisfied, "We are one step closer to the treasure, Gentlemen."

Ian looked both concerned and confused, "Ben, I thought you said the treasure would be on the Charlotte." He sounded annoyed; with the 'get to the point or stop wasting my time' my superiors had been known to take with me.

Ben didn't notice Ian's tone, or didn't care, "No, '_The secret lies with Charlotte'_. I said it could be here."

_Clever_, I thought; _don't say anything definite until you have evidence. More people should do the same. _

Ben produced a pocketknife, and dug the point of it into the pad of his thumb, causing a wound which began bleeding, though not heavily. Riley cringed dramatically, and looked at Ben as though he had gone crazy. I winched, more at the sight of a human injuring themselves than at the concept of pain, which meant little to me. Ben didn't show any outward sing of pain. Possibly, his hands were too numbed with cold to feel anything, or perhaps he was 'tough' enough that the wound didn't hurt him any.

Ben carefully rubbed his thumb across the pipe-stem, covering it with blood, causing the scrollwork to standout. Then, equally carefully, he rolled the stem down a sheet of paper from his notebook. The blood acted as ink on a stamp, and the scrollwork revealed what I have thought I'd seen before. Not only symbols, but calligraphy-style letters.

"Templar's symbols," Ben mused aloud. Templar's perhaps, but I recognized them as human-evolved angelic symbols that had been passed from Heaven to Earth by various angels through history. Ben finished his printing, and reached over for the flashlight Riley handed him. Holding the notebook up to the light, he began reading:

"_The legend writ_

_The stain effected_

_The key in Silence undetected_

_Fifty-five in iron pen_

_Mr. Matlack can't offend_."

There was a moment of silence as everyone seemed to be processing the information. "It's a riddle," Ben finally determined. _That's a little obvious_, I thought. Ben took his gloves from where he'd left them, and began to wander absently away. "I need to think."

Ben was pulling his gloves back on, pacing randomly, and thinking out loud. "'The legend writ, the stain effected'. What legend? There's the legend of the Templar treasure. And the stain effects the legend?"

"How?" Ian wondered.

"'The key in Silence undetected'", Ben suggested, then, "Wait. The legend, the key… now there's something." Ben sank down onto a barrel, "A map, maps have legends, maps have keys. It's a map, an invisible map, so now…"

"Wait a minute," interjected Ian, who was peering into the pipe, perhaps looking for a concealed note, "What do you mean 'invisible'? An invisible map?"

"Does sound a bit far-fetched," I murmured thoughtfully. Riley, who heard me, nodded his agreement slightly.

"'The stain effected'," Ben explained, "Could refer to a dye or a reagent used to bring about a certain result. Combined with 'The key in Silence undetected' the implication is that the effect is to make what was undetectable detectable." I glanced at Riley, who looked almost completely lost, then at Ian, who had sunk down onto another nearby barrel, and was hanging onto Ben's every word. "Unless," Ben continued, making a gesture with one hand and looking Heavenward as if asking for ideas, "'The key in Silence' could be…."

"Prison," Shaw interrupted.

"Albuquerque," Riley countered. Everyone, including me gave him the strangest look, "See, I can do it too," Riley continued, "Snorkel." I shook my head slightly.

"Riley," I whispered, "You're more hindering than helping."

Shaw rolled his eyes somewhat, gave Riley a death glare, and continued, "That's where the map is; like he said 'fifty-five in iron pen'. 'iron pen' is a prison."

_Do you perhaps know this from personal experience_ I wondered, not voicing my thoughts, in case Riley decided to echo them.

"Or it could be, since the primary writing medium of the time was iron gall ink, the pen is… just a pen," Ben objected. "But then," he continued, again thinking out loud, "Why not say a pen? Why…why say 'iron pen'?"

"'Cause it's a prison," Shaw grumbled too low for Ben to hear.

"Wait a minute, 'Iron pen'," I could see the light in Ben's eyes come on as the thought hit him, "the 'iron' does not described the ink in the pen, it describes what was penned. It was 'iron', it was firm, it was mineral…no, no, no, that's stupid…it was firm, it was adamant, it was resolved." Ben's head came up and the look of sudden revelation grew stronger, "It was resolved" he repeated.

Then, another thought, one connecting to this, seemed to come to him, " 'Mr. Matlack can't offend'. Timothy Matlack was the official scribe of the Continental Congress," Ben rose, and started to pace again, "calligrapher, not writer. And to make sure he could not offend the map, it was put on the back of a resolution that he transcribed, and resolution that fifty-five men signed…The Declaration of Independence."

Everyone seemed to be overwhelmed by this determination. Ian rocked back somewhat before leaning forward, "oh," he determined, letting out the breath he'd been holding.

Riley forced a slight laugh, "Come on, there's no invisible map n the back of the Declaration of Independence."

"That's clever really," Ian determined, "A document of that importance would ensure the map's survival. And you said there were several Masons signed it, yeah?"

"Yeah. Nine for sure."

"We'll have to arrange a way to examine it," Ian continued, leaning back as he crossed one leg over the other, still holding the notebook with the impression of the riddle. I thought it amusing that this riddle, which had remained unsolved for centuries, had been figured out by Ben Gates in all of seven minutes.

"This is one of the most important documents in history, " Ben objected, "They're not just gonna let us waltz in there and run chemical tests on it."

"Then what do you propose we do?" Ian shot back.

"I don't know!" Ben admitted in a harsh 'shut up' tone. He sank back down onto the barrel he'd been sitting on before. I looked over at Riley, who looked nervous to the point of panicked. I rested my hands soothingly on his shoulders.

Ian's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, "we could borrow it," he suggested.

"Steal it?" Ben asked incredulously, he stared at Ian, as if trying to determine if he'd gone crazy. Ian just stared back, completely serious. "I don't think so."

"Ben, the treasure of the Knights Templar in the treasure of all treasures," Ian argued.

"Oh, I didn't know that. Really?" Ben shot back sarcastically. Ian rolled his eyes somewhat.

"look, Ben, I understand your bitterness, I really do, " Ian tried again in a slow, controlled, yet impatient, voice, " You've spent your entire life searching for this treasure only to have the respected historical community treat you and your family with mockery and contempt. You should be able to rub this treasure in their arrogant faces and I want you to have the chance to do that."

I didn't feel that that was Ben's original reason for the passion he'd exerted to find the Charlotte, but Ian had touched just the right nerve, opening an old wound, cutting it even deeper, and pushing Ben's good intentions out of the lighter respects into the realm of pride and gain, as well as offering false sympathies, concerns, and understandings. I was reminded of many of the trickster demons my kind often dealt with, offering false temptation, and snaring innocent souls. I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise as I clearly realized the devil in Ian for the first real time.

I became even more worried as I saw Ben falling victim to this ploy. He seemed to be strongly considering Ian's proposal. "How?" He asked.

"We all have our areas of expertise. You don't think mine are limited to writing checks, do you? In another life…I arranged a number of operations of…questionable legality."

Riley gave me a confused look over his shoulder. "It's a fancy way to say he broke the law," I explained.

Shaw approached, "I'd take his word on it, if I were you."

Suddenly I saw in Ben's face a realization of what he was being played into, and that he was being threatened. "So don't worry," Ian continued gently, coaxingly, "I'll make all the arrangements."

Ben's mind had now fully wrapped itself around what he was dealing with. Anger, disgust, and a slight terror at what he had almost agreed to crossed his face in such quick succession that to an untrained eye they would have blended together into an indiscernible emotion. "No," he determined adamantly, rising to his feet. Ian followed suit.

Ian realized that he was loosing Ben's confidence, and, like any player, tried another card. "I'd really need your help here," he said in a calm yet almost pleading voice. He was trying to convince Ben that he was the one controlling the situation, but Ben was no longer playing Ian's games.

"Ian," Ben exclaimed, " I'm not going to let you steal the Declaration of Independence." His tone was one of _how stupid do you think I am?_

Ian, however, had one last card in his hand, "Okay," He determined in an '_I'm sorry it had to come to this'_ voice,"From this point on, all you're going to be is a hindrance." He turned to walk away.

Some silent signal seemed to pass between him and Shaw, because no sooner had Ian turned his back on Ben, then Shaw had pulled a revolver from his jacket and had Ben at gunpoint.

"Hey!" Riley protested. I held him back from jumping in to help.

"Riley, stop! You'll make it worse!"

"What are you gonna do? You're gonna shoot me, Shaw?" Ben asked, he wasn't going to be so easily frightened or intimidated, which was bad for Ian. Terror was the only weapon left in his arsenal, the traditional last attempt. Shaw gave him a mocking smile. "Well, you can't shoot me," Ben continued, "There's more to the riddle. Information you don't have. I do." Ah, Ben was trying to bargain out of this. That or he was stalling for time to think up an escape route. Either way, he needed to talk fast. He looked serious, angry, determined, but, in his eyes, I could see that deep down, he was scared. But he wasn't about to let Ian know, or to let it stop him. "I'm the only one who can figure it out, and you know that."

"He's bluffing," Shaw accused.

"We play poker together Ian," Ben countered skillfully, a desperate smile crossing his lips, "You know I can't bluff."

"Tell me what I need to know Ben," Ian demanded, zero-tolerance style, when Ben didn't respond, Ian added, "Or I'll shoot your friend." That was, or course, Shaw's cue to turn the gun on Riley.

"Hey!" Riley protested again, moving behind some ropes as if that would shield him.

"Quiet, Riley!" Ian snapped, "Your job's finished here." I could see Ben now trying desperately to think up another strategy.

"Don't worry, Riley," I soothed, putting my arms around him from behind, "I'm right here." Normally, we're not supposed to get involved in physical stuff, unless that's the intent of our assignment, but I was very ready to stand between Riley and that bullet, should I need to.

It was just then that Ben settled on a plan of action. He seized a flare and lit it. Ian and Shaw turned to look at him. "Look where you're standing," Ben threatened, Ian and Shaw looked down to see the black powder covering the snow beneath their feet, "All that gunpowder. You shoot me, I drop this, we all go up."

"Ben…" Riley pleaded. I let go, lifted up over him, and came to rest separating him from the stand-off between Ben and Ian.

"What happens when the flare burns down?" Ian taunted. "Tell me what I need to know, Ben."

"You need to know," Ben hesitated, "If Shaw can catch!" with that, Ben threw the flare at Shaw and Ian. Riley shut his eyes tight and gripped my hand so hard it hurt. Ian managed to catch the flare just before it hit the gun powder. Riley opened one eye.

"Nice try, though," Ian was mocking Ben, just as the fuse burnt off, and the flare itself ignited, setting his coat on fire. Ian gave a sort of sound of surprise, and dropped the flare, attempting to put out the flames on his coat sleeve. I saw the flare falling, as if in slow motion, tumbling over and over as it fell. The flare hit the ground, setting the gunpowder on fire. Instantly, flames erupted, as high as the two men they separated. Ben scrambled backward from the flames, ducking behind barrels to escape the bullets of Shaw's gun.

I saw the gun point in our direction as Shaw instinctively fired. "Get down, Riley!" I ordered, pushing him out of the way of the bullet.

"Get out, Shaw!" Ian shouted, holding his burnt hand gingerly. Ben was now reemerging from where he'd been hiding. Ian paused in the doorway, and looked back. His and Ben's eyes met though the fire. Ben looked angry, but, most of all, he looked victorious. Ian's expression was 'why would you do that?' then the flames shot again, and both men were forced back, Ian scrambled through the door. "Fool!" I heard him yell as he endeavored to close the wooden door behind him, I heard the latch as Ian slammed in into place, sealing us in. It was only then that I remembered Ian still had the pipe with him, though that was, presently, the least of our concerns.

Riley was still sprawled where he had landed after I pushed him. I knelt next to him, trying to concoct some way to get both Ben and Riley out alive. Like the soldiers of the American Revolution, where this had started, I wouldn't leave a man behind.

Ben was stomping on the floor. It took a second for my panicked mind to process what he was doing. He was looking for the hollow that would indicate a trapdoor to a lower level in the hold. It seemed he'd found what he was looking for. "Riley!" Ben shouted, "Get over here!"

I grabbed Riley's arm to help pull him to his feet. Then we both ran, dodging the flames. Ben had managed to get the trapdoor open. "What is this?" Riley demanded.

"Smuggler's hold. Get in!" Ben practically shoved Riley down the hole, I slid in behind him. Ben dropped after us, pulling the trapdoor closed behind him. "Follow me," he instructed Riley. There wasn't enough room to stand upright, so we ran bent over. Suddenly, flames started raining down on us. The fire had started burning though the wooden floor above us! Flames landed on Riley's jacket, causing him to loose his balance in panic.

I started beating the flames out with my hands, as I couldn't be burned. "Move, Riley!" I screamed again, "Go! Keep going!" Ben had found a compartment in the wall ahead of us. We raced, fast as we could go, through different sections of the smugglers hold. The part we were racing through was not on fire.

Ben grabbed riley by the jacket as we reached the last part, "Get down!" Riley hit the snow face first, I threw myself on top of him. Ben slammed to compartment door shut. He managed to throw himself facedown beside us just as the entire ship exploded.

I pressed myself firmly to Riley's back to keep him down; with one hand, I found Ben's coat and grabbed on, trying to keep us together. Debris came flying at us, smoke filled the air, the ground shook and flames roared. It seemed a lifetime before everything was calm, the ship reduced to smoldering rubble. It was then that I released Ben's jacket and scrambled off Riley. Ben easily pulled himself out from the snow, I helped Riley up, coughing, choking, and gasping for air. "Breathe," I instructed, holding his shoulder with one hand and cupping his face with the other, "It's okay, Riley, breathe."

The compartment had not survived the blast, but had offered enough protection that we were unharmed. Had we been anywhere else, Ben and Riley would not have survived. Looping an arm around my assignment, I helped him to his feet. Ben led the way through the opening above us.

"There's an Inuit village about nine miles east of here," Ben explained, "It's popular with bush pilots."

"All right, "Riley agreed, panting heavily, "Then what are we going to do?"

"Start making our way back home," Ben replied, as if the answer had been obvious.

"No, I meant about Ian," Riley explained, stumbling around the piles of wreckage, "He's going to steal the Declaration of Independence, Ben."

Ben paused, turning to look at us, over his shoulder, "We stop him."

_Nice vague answer_, I thought to myself as we started to long walk to the village, and the long trip back to Washington.


	5. The Legend

Sorry that this chapter's so short. Anyway, please enjoy.

* * *

Riley didn't quite have his feet back under him as we began the trek. He stumbled and weaved like a sailor who had yet to gain his sea legs. Ben's purposeful and determined stride was creating a large amount of distance between them.

"Come on, Riley," I coaxed, "We're falling behind."

"I'm trying," Riley protested.

I grabbed Riley under the arms, and held him upright, as he tried to get his footing. "B…Ben! Hey, wait up, Ben!"

Ben turned back around, "Riley, were you planning on coming?"

Riley thrashed through the snow towards Ben. I followed at a slight distance, approximately six feet up and perpendicular to the ground. Riley was moving through the snow as if it were quicksand, Ben was already moving well in front of us. "The snow will not attempt to swallow you whole, Riley," I groaned impatiently, "Pick up the pace."

"It's not like we're missing anything important," Riley hissed to me. But he started moving somewhat faster.

"Tell me about the treasure," I requested, I was given the bare minimum on it, which did not include the legend, which I was eager to hear. It was also a way to keep Riley distracted.

Riley seemed to be happy to oblige. "Well, when Ben was a kid, his Grandfather told him the story, and he's only told it to me about a million times. There was this treasure, bigger than any that had ever existed anywhere. Every king and emperor and pharaoh and everything was fighting for it. And every time someone stole it, it grew bigger. So, eventually, it was hidden away and it disappeared. Then, during the first crusade, it was found by knights underneath the temple of Solomon." Riley paused, "You were there during the crusades, right?"

"I was, Riley. But please continue."

"Well, the knights decided that no one should have it, since it was so vast, so they brought it to Europe and formed the Knight's Templar. They smuggled out of Europe over the next hundred years, and into America. Probably not those same knights, but members of the Knight's Templar, or the Free Masons, as they changed their name to. George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, Charles Carroll, they were all Free Masons. Anyway, Ben's grandfather's grandfather's grandfather, or his, umm…"

"His Great-Great-Great-Great Grandfather," I supplied.

"Yeah, he was Carroll's stable boy, and Carroll told him the first clue- _"the secret lies with Charlotte"._ No one knew what the Charlotte was for centuries, and then Ben comes along and just finds it, you know." He smirked at me, "It's wired, huh?"

"Stranger things have happened," I mused.

"Ben's not just doing this for himself," Riley continued, "He was really close to his grandfather, really, I think Ben's doing this for him."

"And his father?" I asked, though I knew the answer.

"I don't think Ben's dad believes the treasure is real. Anyway, he and Ben don't really speak anymore."

"So, what is Ben going to do if he finds it?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure Ben knows. I think that he hasn't thought that far ahead yet."

"Just as well, if he had, and he doesn't find it, it could be absolutely crushing."

"Yeah, I guess." Riley had no idea what I had just said. I pondered over what I'd just been told: the legend of the Templar treasure, as told by Riley Poole. I had a feeling I would be filling in holes as we went along. Riley was huffing and puffing as he moved through the knee-deep snow. I would occasionally give him a little push from behind to help him out. I had left my jacket a while back, not sure why Andrew had given it to me in the first place, as the cold would have no effect on me. I figured he had probably given it to me so that I would blend in more.

The brilliant blue sky arched above us, seeming to touch the earth, forming a wall at the horizon. Towards that horizon was nothing but white. The effect was somewhat hypnotic, and gave one a sort of 'Through the Looking Glass' feeling, that the faster you went, the less you moved. Riley was fast loosing strength. "Ben? Can we take a breather?"

"The only way to keep off hypothermia is to keep moving," Ben replied, but he slowed down to let Riley catch up.

"It doesn't feel cold enough to get hypothermia," Riley protested.

"That's because you're moving, it keeps your body warm," Ben reminded him. Riley nodded slightly, and just kept walking. Soon he started falling behind again.

I didn't really have the ability to talk to Riley too much because I was afraid Ben would overhear Riley's responses. Anyways, I knew we were making fairly good progress. Of the nine miles, we had already covered about two. Even if that left about seven more, if we kept our speed up, we should make it just before the sun set.

Riley was staring, but seeing nothing. I figured he was enjoying some daydream. I began to reflect myself, working over every detail of the past day in my mind. I was still trying to determine some conclusion as to why I had been chosen for this assignment. If Riley was a sensitive case, or if we were encounter some great evil, why send an angel like me? Why not at least send an angel with more time spent in on Earth? By Heavenly standards, I was still new at my job, and inexperienced. Apparently it was the fact that I had been documenting during the American Revolution that had landed me here. I hadn't been the only one- but I was the only one who had changed departments, at least, I was the only one who had become a TAG. Having witnessed so much human suffering, I felt a need to work with them. So, I appealed to my supervisor, who managed to get me clearance to go back to the Academy and study to be TAG. And so, about two human centuries later, I graduated from the training fully, and was from then on allowed to work solo, and no longer have to do only 'shadow' work. Shadowing is when there is an angel, except the human cannot see or hear them, so the angel essentially serves as an extra shadow.

I was still turning the bizarre state of affairs over and over in my mind as I saw a tiny speck on the horizon. I knew that that was the village Ben was looking for. I floated down closer to Riley, "There it is Riley, about four miles off."

"It's only been five miles?" Riley puffed to me, "I feel as though I've walked a hundred!"

"You'll make it, Riley," I assured him, "I have every faith in you."

The last four miles managed to melt away beneath us, and we soon had reached the village. While Ben negotiated a bush pilot into flying them back to Washington, one woman offered two unused rooms in her boarding house for Ben and Riley. Ben was hesitant, but the pilot was staying the night anyway, so he accepted.

Riley collapsed on the cot and closed his eyes. He managed to stay awake long enough to remove his boots, then passed out from exhaustion.

I pulled the blanket over Riley, and let him be. He wouldn't need my help to fall asleep tonight. In fact, he had already fallen asleep.

I rested my back against the wall, feeling emotionally drained, as I couldn't be physically exhausted. Throughout the night, I maintained my silent vigil.


	6. A Fact Stranger Than Fiction

As usual, I apologize for the incredable delay. Enjoy.

* * *

Once we had arrived back in Washington, Ben allowed Riley (and I, consequently) to go home just long enough to change clothes. Riley, in that, proved he had been in a cubicle too long, opting for a full suit and tie. Ben wore dark blue jeans and an open collared dress shirt; he looked, in my mind, much like an adventurer. He grabbed Riley a burger while he drove to pick him up. "So, where we headed, Ben?" Riley asked around mouthfuls of food.

"We've got to tell someone about Ian," Ben determined, "We're headed to the Department of Homeland Security."

I groaned quietly to myself, the Department of Homeland Security was more likely to call Ben a therapist than anything else. Ben's story might be true, but these were men who dealt with facts, and Ben had no solid evidence against Ian, and nothing to prove that the Declaration was in danger, much less that there was a map on the back of it. I voiced nothing to Riley, who was quietly getting lettuce all over the back of Ben's van.

The Department responded exactly the way I predicted they would. First, they reassured Ben that the Declaration could not possibly be stolen. Then when Ben tried to explain, they asked him if he was on his medication. Ben stormed out of the building with Riley and I close behind.

"Well that was a waste of time," I muttered to Riley.

"Come on," Ben was saying, "We're going to the FBI."

"This will get us so much farther," Riley whispered to me. I nodded my agreement.

Ben was soon storming out of the J Edgar Hoover FBI building, again with Riley in tow. This time it had taken us an even shorter time to be asked to leave. Riley was also getting annoyed. "Is it really so hard to believe that someone's gonna try to steal the Declaration of Independence?" He complained loudly as soon as we were outside. I knew his question was directed at me, but Ben got to answering it before I did.

"The FBI gets ten-thousand tips a week," Ben reminded Riley, "They're not going to worry about something they're sure is safe."

"But anyone who can do anything is gonna think we're crazy," Riley continued, "And anyone crazy enough to believe us isn't gonna want to help."

"We don't need someone crazy. Go one step short of crazy, what do you get?"

Riley gave a slight laugh and shook his head, "Obsessed."

"Passionate," Ben corrected.

I raised an eyebrow, "There's a fine line between the two," I observed. Riley smirked at that.

Our next stop was the National Archives, where Ben managed to secure us an unscheduled visit with Doctor Chase, who was the head of the facility. While we were waiting, Ben noticed pamphlets advertising the National Archives Anniversary Gala. He leaned across Riley and took one.

As he was reading it, a young woman opened the doors, "Dr Chase can see you now, Mr. Brown."

"Thank-you," Ben replied, replacing the pamphlet.

"Mr. _Brown_?" Riley asked softly as Ben and he stood and made their way into Dr Chase's office.

"Family name doesn't get a lot of respect in the academic community," Ben confessed.

"Ah," Riley said, "Being kept down by the man." Just then, they both saw Dr Chase, who was, in fact a lovely, blonde young woman. She was on the phone, and gestured them to wait a moment. "A very cute man," Riley observed. I elbowed him gently in the ribs to remind him to mind himself.

"Thank-you," Dr Chase said into the phone, and hung up. She turned back to Ben and Riley, "Good Afternoon, Gentlemen."

"Hi," Riley said, trying to be friendly.

"Abigail Chase," She said, coming around her desk to shake Ben's hand.

"Paul Brown," Ben said, not missing a beat.

"Nice to meet you," She turned to shake Riley's hand.

"Name, Riley," I whispered

"Bill," Riley blurted out ungracefully.

"Nice to meet you, Bill. How may I help you?"

"Your accent," Ben interrupted, "Pennsylvania Dutch?" I shook my head, _not even close, in fact, off by a long shot. _

"Saxony German," Abigail corrected him.

"Oh," Ben said, I could read what he was thinking, _well, I screwed that up_.

"You're not American?" Riley asked, puzzled.

"Riley!" I hissed.

"Oh, I am an American, I just wasn't born here," Abigail explained. Riley nodded, but I knew he didn't understand. "Please don't' touch that!" she added quickly. I turned to see Ben studying a mounted collection of what looked to me like antique buttons.

"Sorry, a neat collection: George Washington's campaign buttons. You're missing the 1789 inaugural, though. I found one once."

"That's very fortunate for you," Dr Chase remarked, I could tell she was getting tired of the small talk, "Now, you told my assistant that this was an urgent matter?"

"Ah, yes, Ma'am," Ben said coming back over to the desk and talking a seat for himself across from her. Riley sat in the other chair and tried to look as professional as possible. I stood behind his chair, though I knew that we would probably have as little luck here as we had had anywhere else so far. "Well, I'm going to get strait to the point," Dr Chase was listening attentively, or at least she seemed to be, "Someone's going to steal the Declaration of Independence."

_Well_, I mused, _that is getting right to the point_. To use a line my kind often uses, his point was more blunt than pointed.

Dr Chase looked like she didn't know what to say. She looked from Ben to Riley. Riley did his best to help, "It's true," he said simply, eyebrows rising. Something about that struck me as funny, and I couldn't help but giggle slightly.

Dr Chase looked away from Riley and blinked several times rapidly, trying to gather her thoughts and sort them out. She gave Ben a tight-lipped glance, as if trying to determine how crazy he really was. "I think I better put you gentlemen in touch with the FBI," she determined reaching for her phone.

"We've been to the FBI," Ben told her.

"And?"

"They assured us that the Declaration cannot possibly be stolen," Riley said, his eyes closed, and his head sort of bouncing around on his shoulders. His tone betrayed how exasperated he was with the whole thing.

Dr Chase shrugged, "They're right."

Ben took a deep breath to steady himself, "My friend and I are less certain," he began.

"You've downgraded to namelessness," I joked to Riley, who rolled his eyes.

"However," Ben continued, "If we were given the privilege of examining the document," Dr Chase cocked her head sarcastically, Ben's head moved the same way, defensively, his eyes were firm, he was tired of being laughed at, and he was going to force her to listen to him, "We would be able to tell you for certain if it were actually in any danger."

Dr Chase flopped back against her chair, this was probably too weird for her "What do you think you're going to find?"

That caught Ben off guard, I could see him struggling for a response, and I knew Dr Chase could see it too. "We believe that there's an…" He faltered, "Encryption on the back." I saw Riley was not buying it.

"An encryption, like a code?" Dr Chase asked incredulously.

"Yes, Ma'am"

"Of what?"

"Uhh…a cartograph," Ben tried. You could just hear their credibility sinking.

"A map?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Ben said again.

Riley was fiddling with his suit jacket. He looked very uncomfortable with the situation. I rested my hands on his shoulders, holding my breath for her reaction. I could hear irritation seeping into Dr Chase's voice as she spoke, "A map of _what_?"

Oh boy, that was the problem – how to say 'treasure', "The location of…" Ben cleared his throat nervously, evidently struggling for the smartest sounding way to say this, "Of hidden items of…of historical and intrinsic value." He was looking heavenward, perhaps praying for help. I didn't think that even that would help presently.

Dr Chase blinked rapidly a couple times, as she processed, then she looked back up at Ben, "A treasure map?" she asked, her tone was one of _Am I hearing you correctly?_

"That's where we lost the FBI," Riley confessed, smiling politely.

"You're treasure hunters, aren't you?" Dr Chase said. I figured she probably had to deal with many of them, working with historical documents. It never failed to surprise me how many people associated old documents with treasure maps.

Riley didn't have an answer, and looked quickly to Ben to handle the situation.

"We're more like 'treasure protectors'," Ben tried. I sighed softly to myself, _okay, Ben, that was pretty lame._ I gave Ben credit for trying, but he wasn't doing very well.

"Mister Brown," Dr Chase continued, "I have personally seen the back of the Declaration of Independence. And I promise you, the only thing there is a notation that reads: 'Original Declaration of…'"

"'Independence'," Ben joined in, "'Dated Four of July 1776.' Yes Ma'am."

"But no map," Dr Chase finished.

Riley and I could both tell what Ben was going to say next. Riley looked in his direction, Ben looked back, preparing himself for this. Riley closed his eyes and shook his head, I could practically hear what he was thinking: _Don't do it, Ben…don't say it._

Ben gave an exasperated sigh, there was no alternative. He leaned forward; signifying that he was taking Dr Chase into his confidence. I could see him thinking for any other way to say what had to be said. Dr Chase was impatiently waiting for his response. His face clearly asked her to just hear him out, no matter how crazy it sounded. "It's invisible," he finally said simply.

"Oh…right," Dr Chase said mockingly. She tipped her head back and stared at Ben down her nose, opening her eyes wide. I think she, too, had just determined that Ben was off his meds.

Riley sighed, "And that's where we lost the department of Homeland Security," he said dryly.

"Fact is stranger than fiction," I said, "And this is defiantly strange." Riley smirked ever so slightly.

I couldn't tell if Dr Chase was curious, or was just humoring them when she asked, "What led you to assume there's this invisible map?"

"We found an engraving on the stem of a two-hundred year old pipe," Ben admitted, there was no point in keeping up the act; Ben was laying his cards flat on the table.

"Owned by Freemasons," Riley added quickly, trying to make it sound more important.

"May I see the pipe?" Dr Chase asked, this time she was defiantly curious.

Riley and Ben looked at each other; we all shared one common thought: _now what_. "We don't h…have it," Riley admitted nervously.

Dr Chase gave Riley and Ben a hard stare, "Did Bigfoot take it?" she asked sarcastically. I had to swallow a few choice words towards her.

Ben had had enough, "It was nice meeting you," He said bluntly, standing up to go.

"Nice to meet you too," Dr Chase said in a slightly amused voice.

"You know, that is a nice collection," Ben observed, motioning to the display stand he'd been admiring earlier, "Must've taken you a long time to hunt down all that history." I knew what he was really saying: _We're not so different, you and I._

The three of us left Dr Chase's office. Turning back, I saw her smile a little.

Ben, Riley, and I moved through the open part of the building where the documents were displayed. The floor was made of two-tone marble, and the high wall was decorated with enormous images of the Founding Fathers of the United States.

"If it's any consolation, you had me convinced," Riley remarked.

"It's not," Ben grumbled.

Riley looked at me over his shoulder and mouthed the word 'ouch'.

"He doesn't appreciate you, Riley," I said again. Again I wasn't completely serious, but I wasn't completely joking either.

"I was thinking…" Riley continued, "What if we go public? Plaster the story all over the Internet? It's not like…" he sighed, "We have our reputations to worry about."

Ben had walked up to the display case holding the Declaration of Independence; he stared down at the document sadly – so close, and yet, so far. "Although, "Riley continued, "I don't know if that's exactly gonna scare Ian away."

Ben didn't seem to be listening; he was away in a world completely captured by his own thoughts. "180 years of searching and I'm three feet away," he observed. I knew that this was a smarting blow for Ben, he had come so close. He had gone beyond what his father, his grandfather, or any of his family, going back to Tomas Gates, had done; he had gotten to the next step. Now, he could go no further.

"Of all the ideas that became the United States," he said to Riley, "There's a line here that's at the heart of all the others: _'But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, evinces a design to reduce under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty to throw off such government and provide new guards for their future security.'_" I easily found the line in the text, reading along with the calligraphic script. Ben was staring at the document, but I knew he wasn't reading, rather reciting from memory. "People don't talk that way anymore," Ben said sadly.

"Beautiful," Riley agreed, then, after a beat, "No idea what you said."

"It means if there's something wrong, those who have to ability to take action have the responsibility to take action," Ben explained. He stared at the signatures of the Declaration for a long moment; I could tell that he was thinking over what he had just said.

"I'm gonna steal it," Ben determined. I could see in his eye that his mind was made up, unalterably.

Riley scoffed slightly, and then saw that Ben wasn't joking, "What?"

"I'm gonna steal the Declaration of Independence," Ben repeated, his eyes betraying his thoughts '_It is my right, it is my duty…'_. With that, he turned and walked out of the gallery.

Riley was still laughing, then turned and saw Ben was gone, "Uhh…Ben?" he called, as he turned on his heel and ran after him. I sighed to myself, and followed.


	7. One Way To Make it Work

Hello...this is a short chapter compared to the last one,I guess. Please enjoy.

* * *

Ben and Riley were sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, looking across at the Washington Monument. Well, Riley was sitting at any rate, and Ben was pacing as he developed ideas. "This is…huge," Riley determined, "Prison huge." He looked up at Ben who was standing over him, "You are gonna go to prison, you know that." 

"Yeah, Probably," Ben agreed.

"He seems at home with the concept," I observed.

"That would… bother most people," Riley noted.

"Ian's gonna try to steal it," Ben explained, sounding exasperated – once more – with Riley. "And if he succeeds, he's going to destroy the Declaration. The fact is the only way to protect the Declaration is to steal it. It's upside down." He lowered himself onto the step beside Riley. "I don't think there's a choice," Ben finished.

"Are you going to try to explain to him or should I?" I joked.

"Ben," Riley exclaimed, "For God's Sakes!" He rose to his feet, "It's like stealing a national monument, okay?" he motioned to the Washington Monument. The idea of Ian trying to make off with that crossed my mind and I started giggling.

"It's like stealing him!" Riley continued motioning to the statue of Lincoln behind us. "It can't be done. Not_ shouldn't_ be done, it _can't_ be done."

"Nicely handled," I told Riley.

Riley looked Ben in the eye, "Let me prove it to you," he offered, rising his eyebrows. Ben smiled.

"All right, Riley, you're on." I could tell that Ben had already figured out how he was going to steal the Declaration of Independence, and was about to let Riley make a fool out of himself.

"He's going to trick you, Riley," I cautioned.

"Robin!" Riley hissed at me through clenched teeth so that Ben wouldn't overhear, "There is no way in Heaven or Hell that Ben could do this."

"But we're not in Heaven or Hell," I pointed out, which made Riley smile slightly, "And besides, as Margaret Drabble said: 'When nothing is sure, everything is possible'."

"I am _sure_ that it's _impossible,_" Riley countered, nodding forward on each stressed word. I sighed. I knew Riley was wrong; however his stubbornness was clouding his vision. He had the right morals in mind, just not the right facts.

"If it can be done, it's probably not going to be easy," I admitted.

"At least somebody listens to me," Riley grumbled to himself, yet loud enough that I could hear.

Riley took us to the Library of Congress; I was admiring the architecture more than the books as Riley gathered what he needed. We had left Ben at one of the reading desks.

"Okay, Ben, pay attention," Riley said, not even stirring Ben from the book he was reading. "I have brought you to the Library of Congress. Why? Because it's the biggest library in the world." Riley sounded very pleased with himself for that, "Over twenty _million_ books and their all saying the same exact thing: 'listen to Riley'."

"Which Ben should do more often," I added, Riley smiled

Finally Ben looked up. "What we have here, my friend," Riley continued, "Is an entire layout of the archives. Short of builders blueprints. You've got construction orders, phone lines…" Riley held up a stack of papers "Water and sewage, it's all here."

"Now when the Declaration is on display, okay? It is surrounded by guards and video monitors and little families from Iowa and little kids on their eight grade field trip. And beneath an inch of bullet-proof glass are an army of sensors and heat monitors that will go off if some gets too close with a high fever." Riley was very happy to explain all this. And while it was a convincing argument, I could tell Ben wasn't really listening, he had already formed his plan, and was waiting to spring it on Riley.

"Now," Riley continued, "When it's not on display, it is lowered, into a four-foot thick, steel-plated vault that happens to be equipped with an electronic combination lock and biometric access-denial systems."

My head was spinning from Riley's explanation. Ben however, wasn't even phased. "You know, Thomas Edison tried and failed nearly two thousands times to develop the carbonized cotton-thread filament for the incandescent light bulb."

"Edison?" Riley asked in a 'what-does-that-have-to-do-with-this' tone.

"And when asked about it, he said 'I didn't fail, I simply found out two thousand ways how not to make a light bulb'. But he only needed to find one way to make it work."

I smiled, I liked the concept.

Ben picked up the book he was reading and placed it so Riley could see. "The Preservation Room" he stated, "Enjoy. Go ahead." This, I knew, was what Ben had been waiting for, toppling Riley's proof over like a lead balloon.

"Do you know what the preservation room is for?" Ben asked, leaning forward as Riley picked up the book, fell into the chair on the other side of the desk and started reading.

"Delicious jams and jellies?" Riley guessed weakly.

"Wrong kind of preservation," I told him, reading over his shoulder, "But good try." I was just grateful he couldn't see my ear-to-ear smile.

"No, that's where they clean, repair, and maintain all the documents and the storage housings when they're not on display or in the vault," Ben explained. "Now, when the case needs work, they take it out of the vault, directly across the hall and into the Preservation Room. The best time for us, or Ian, to steal it would be during the gala this weekend when the guards are distracted by the VIPs upstairs. But we'll make our way to the Preservation Room where there's much less security." Ben delivered this final statement with much emphasis. Then he sat back to watch Riley's reaction.

Riley looked absolutely blown away, "Huh," he mused, "Well, if Ian…uh…Preservation…hmm…the gala." He looked up at Ben and said in disbelief, "This might be possible."

"It might," Ben and I agreed simultaneously.


	8. Game On

Again, a very long wait for a very short chapter, and you have my apologies.

I am one of the most techonologically inlerate people ever, so I apologize also for the lack of use of proper terms in this chapter.

* * *

"He does that to me every time!" Riley lamented to me as we left the Library of Congress, "How did he do that? How could he have possibly known that?"

I smiled, part amused, part sympathetic, "You're looking in different directions, for different things. You were trying to prove it couldn't be done, so you overlooked how it could. Ben was looking for the one way to make it work." I borrowed Ben's already stated idea.

"Yeah, but how did he know that?"

I shrugged, "Ask him, Riley."

Riley didn't bother; instead he listened while Ben explained his plan as he drove Riley home. "Get your van, you know what to do," was what he left us with.

"Gee, thanks," I muttered.

It took Riley a matter of minutes to determine the necessary supplies, and to locate them. His apartment was cluttered with all kinds of computer equipment, much of it completely alien to me. Yet, Riley knew exactly where every piece of everything was. I suppose that's why he thought it was so funny when he caught me looking around, seeming completely baffled, which of course I was.

"My apartment confuses most people," Riley said suddenly from behind me, causing me to jump. I turned and caught him grinning at me.

"A person could get lost in here," I replied.

"Those without a good sense of direction…and my superior mental mapping skills," he rested his head on one shoulder, which told me he was kidding.

"Riley," I began, then stopped, and started giggling.

"Yes?"

"You're too funny," was the best I could come up with, still giggling.

Riley swung his backpack up on one shoulder, and then picked up a duffel bag with the same hand. "Well, Robin, shall we?" he made a sweeping motion towards to door, then turned back and offered me his empty hand, which made me giggle all over again.

"You are a gentleman," I teased him.

"I try."

Riley's van looked much like his apartment: stripped of anything that wasn't completely essential or irremovable, and the resulting space filled with strange looking computer equipment. I kept glancing over my shoulder as we drove, because I could just envision in my mind's eye what could happen if something came loose.

Riley seemed to understand what I was thinking. "It's all properly and securely fasted, Robin. Take my word for it."

"I believe you, but it makes for an apprehensive environment."

"Huh?" Riley said, not understanding me at all.

"Makes me nervous," I explained.

"You are way to much like Ben, just give a straight answer – not one so…."

"Circumlocutory?"

"What does that mean!"

"It means to use unnecessary or indirect words in an explanation, to give an evasive answer, or – to answer like a politician." That made Riley laugh.

"Do you always talk like this?"

"I'm just teasing you, Riley."

"Pick a word to describe me," he asked, glancing over quickly and shooting me a smile.

"Hmmm…" I mused, "Convivial; it means friendly and sociable."

"Thank-you," Riley stated, "It's too bad Ben isn't C…Con…whatever it was you said." He pulled the van up to the curb and parked, "And this is where we need to be."

Riley slipped out of his seat, grabbed his backpack and duffel bag from the floor at the back of the van, and chose to exit through the side door on the van. I looked over the top of the van as I got out, seeing that we were across the street from the Archives.

Riley was already headed for the escalator down to the subway. I rode on the step behind him, thinking about what we were doing.

I had already drawn the hopeful conclusion that I wasn't going to get in trouble for aiding and abetting grand theft because the angelic approve little of the way humans handle the sharing of their history. "In Heaven," I told Riley, "The archives of the Academy are open freely; they contain a complete chronicle of Heaven and Earth. There's only twp parts that requires special permission to gain access: the section where files are kept on every human in the world, including those who died in infancy, and Heaven's version of personnel files, which are files on every angel in existence."

"So angels don't have conspiracy theories?"

That caught me a bit off guard, "Interesting question…I guess we don't."

"So why do we?"

"Because human memory is fallible, because documentation of history is often misinterpreted or biased, or there is no documentation because it was destroyed or never written down, and because many leaders have tried to hide things from their people. A lot of lines between fact and fiction get blurred, facts get forgotten, lies and exaggerations become accepted as truths. There are hundreds of other reasons."

"Yeah – I'll believe that," Riley muttered, he pulled a roughly drawn map form his pocket, and looked around, "Okay, there should be, in this direction," he pointed with the map, "A service entrance, that will lead to a very narrow walkway along the tunnel and will lead us into the room we require," he did his best to gesture to a room outlined on the map, "Here. From there we can tap into the security system."

We found the door with no trouble, Riley groaned as he tried to door, "Locked."

"You sure?" I asked. I touched the door knob, and it opened.

"How'd you do that?"

"I can do a lot of things," I replied in a mock-mysterious voice, pushing the door open for Riley to enter.

"Oh, like what?"

"Well, I'm invisible to everyone except you, but I am solid. I can fly. I can walk through walls and open most looked doors. If the reason they are locked is a righteous one, or if opening them is unrighteous, I can't do it. I can call upon the Glory of God for aid. I can see in the dark."

Riley was nodding as I talked, "Do all angels have cool powers?"

"Compared to the gifts of the higher angels, what I can do is nothing."

"So what's your best power?"

"I don't think I've ever been asked that…"

"Like…what's the most Heavenly thing you can do? The most powerful?"

_Humans and power_, "I…I don't know."

"You were bragging a minute ago," Riley argued.

"I was not," I protested, feeling myself blush at being accused of pride, "You asked what I could do."

Riley didn't answer, He was busy edging his way out onto a narrow ledge inside the tunnel, beside which trains were rushing by. We followed the walkway several meters. "I hope we don't meet anyone coming the other way," Riley joked nervously. Soon we had located a door.

Riley opened it and poked his head in to ensure both that this was the right room and that the cost was clear. Then we went in and Riley shut the door.

From his backpack, Riley produced a laptop computer. He set it up, along with electronic equipment I could never dreamed of recognizing, let alone understanding. He also produced some of the material Ben had given him on the security of the Archives. We both skimmed through diagrams and technical information.

"One of the things I don't understand about security," I admitted to Riley, "Is that they have it, but then allow the publishing of material explaining how it works and, therefore, how to get around it."

"I think part of it," Riley pointed out, "Is that they never expect anyone to try."

"Well, to some people, a closed door means a challenge, they pick a lock because it's locked. They don't want whatever is protected, they want it because it is protected: a natural desire to posses the forbidden."

I could tell that Riley's mind was better suited to computers than the abstracts of human nature, so I made no further prompts in the conversation. Riley had found what he was looking for, and cut a large hole in a nearby pipe, which contained multiple cables. He then fed his own cable up into the shaft. The cable was armed with a camera on the end so we could see where it was inside.

Riley entered a command on his computer, and the camera image appeared on his screen. "And we are in," Riley said to me, his tone one of 'its-that-easy'.

Riley pushed the cables farther up the shaft. I was no help here, so I settled for watching. Below the image read the label 'Archive Security Conduit'.

Riley's camera soon saw what we were looking for: the connectors to the different security cameras. "There you are," Riley said aloud, maneuvering a little closer by means of a joystick, "Hello." The comedic tone of his voice sent me into another spurt of giggling.

He tapped into one of the connectors, and began recording footage of the empty hallway, he also then tapped into footage of the empty preservation room. "That's what I want," he determined, recording it.

Riley left the device he told me would monitor and transmit the necessary information hidden in a corner. Then we returned to his van. Riley turned his lap top back on. Two images were present. One that was live feed, and one labeled 'standby', showing the recorded empty hallway. Riley seemed very pleased with the fruits of his efforts. He had one phrase to describe it, "Game on."

As he finished up, Riley explained to me what he was doing, "Well," he said, "Basically, what I'm going to do is send the stuff I recorded to the monitors the guards will be watching, and send the live feed to my computer. So I will see what's really happening, and they will see nothing. The stuff I have will play continuously, so Ben has as long as he needs, and when we're done, I just put the monitors back, and we get out of there before anyone notices that the Declaration is gone." Riley smiled at me over his shoulder.

"Riley Poole," I told him, leaning in so I could get a better look at the computer screen, "You are a genius."

"Common knowledge."


	9. The Plan

Yes, I am fully aware of how incredably short this chapter is. However, running it into the next didn't work, so it had to be cut off where it is.

* * *

Neither Riley nor I knew exactly what Ben was doing to uphold his part in all of this. Ben claimed to know how he was going to get past all the different security features and into the Preservation Room. He had talked about going in through the custodial workers entrance, so as not to need an invitation, and then sneak into the party, and finally from the party to the Preservation Room. He had offered few other details, however.

Riley and I had the job of making sure the Declaration would be in the Preservation Room. We could even do it from six feet away, with the use of a laser. Riley held the device next to his eye, turned it on, and pointed it across the van, to a thermometer which was decorated with tree frogs and read 'Greetings from Jamaica'. When the laser touched on the bottom of the glass, the mercury began rising almost instantly. "Cool," Riley murmured as the thermometer continued climbing.

"We need a way to smuggle it in…" I mused. Riley thought about it for a second, then, without a word, moved around me and began rummaging through his equipment. He turned with a simple handheld camcorder and a roll of ever-useful duct-tape. He used the tape, which was almost the same color as the camcorder, to fasten the laser on top of it. When he was done, it looked like it was a part of the camera. I grinned.

"Cool," I determined – echoing Riley – as he gave it a couple practice tries, to ensure that he could easily turn the laser on and off. Riley beamed at me, turned the camera off, and we both jumped back out of the van, and headed into the Archives.

"You know, Robin," Riley whispered, as we entered the building, "This had better be worth it."

"I'm sure it will be," I replied.

Inside, we started on the far end of the room, so as not to attract suspicion. Riley slowly swept the camera across the documents housed in their glass cases. Wearing a backpack and carrying an average camcorder, he looked like every other tourist in there. Fortunately, he kept his body language relaxed, which made him seem even less suspicious; he would've stood out more if he'd seemed as jittery as I knew he was feeling.

Riley moved slowly across the room, peering though his camera. When he saw the Declaration, with an elderly lady leaning over it, his other eye opened, and for a second he looked terrified. I knew that suddenly the truth about what exactly he was going to do had hit him, and he momentarily panicked. I put a steadying hand on his arm, and he glanced at me nervously.

"We only have one shot at this," I told him. Riley took a bit of a breath to steady himself. Then he zoomed the camera in on the Declaration. Resting a hand on his shoulder, I was able to see what he was seeing through the camera. With an unperceivable movement of his finger, Riley switched the laser on. I helped him direct it to the exact place, as the black and white image though the camera lacked for detail.

Once the laser beam was in just the right spot, I touched Riley's hand to tell him to stop, "You've got it, now just leave it there for a second."

In my mind, I saw the room where the sensors were being monitored. I 'heard' the alarm go off. When people started moving, I nudged Riley, "Job done. Now let's get out of here." Riley hurriedly turned off the laser and the camera. "Slow down," I advised, "If you move too quickly, you'll look nervous."

Though I knew it was hard, I forced Riley to walk calmly out of the building. In my mind, I saw Abigail Chase heading down to the Preservation Room, after having been alerted by phone. We lingered outside a moment, before climbing into the van. Riley sat on the floor in the back and watched what was going on inside on his laptop. He was in the process of putting a piece of gum in his mouth when figures entered onto one of the screens. We could see the Declaration being carefully transported by people in clean-room suits.

"Let's do this by the book," one of the men said.

"Hallway is secure," reported another.

"Keep the document level."

"No problem."

Riley and I were both smiling as Abigail Chase entered the scene. "What have you got?"

"The heat sensor went off in the Declaration frame," one of them reported as they moved into the Preservation Room.

"Run full diagnostics, then I want them all changed out," Dr Chase instructed. The men set the document down carefully on the table in the middle of the room.

Riley's grin had faded, and now he watched in fascination as the scene unfolded, just as we wanted it to. "Our evil plan is working," Riley observed.

My smile widened, "Yep," I agreed, "It is."

He turned to me, "Did you have something to do with this?"

"Other than helping you, _I_ didn't do anything."

"But someone did?" Riley asked. I nodded. "But if it wasn't you…"he paused, one eyebrow arching, "_God _did this?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Kinda. But since you're here…unless I'm going crazy…."

"I'm real, Riley, and so is the One who sent me."

Riley was very quiet for a long moment. Then he stood, and moved into the driver's seat without saying a word. I sat in the seat beside him, also not saying anything. I knew that this wasn't for spite, but that Riley was trying to think through what I had said. He glanced at me, and gave me a weak grin, "You'll have to explain all that to me later," he admitted, "But right now, Ben's gonna kill me if we don't pick him up on time."


	10. We've Got Trouble

Okay...sorry for the wait. And I'm actually not all that sorry for such a cliff-hanger ending, prompts you to read my next chapter. :) kidding!  
I am assuming that Riley is watching Ben through the security cameras while he's in the gala because he knows exactly what's happening.  
Hopefully be seein' y'all pretty soon with an update.

* * *

Ben emerged dressed in the kind of coverall jumpsuit normally worn by janitors and people with similar occupations. He had created a fake ID badge for himself that would get him into the Archives. Underneath the jumpsuit was a tuxedo, so that he could easily blend into the party crowd. He rode in the seat beside Riley – who was driving. I sat cross-legged on the floor in the back. Ben looked nervous, but seemed confident that he knew what he was doing. Riley, however, was obviously scared. He fidgeted and squirmed. He kept looking at me over his shoulder. Every time he did so, I would smile at him encouragingly.

Riley parked across the street from the Archives, Ben climbed out the side door. "Ben," Riley asked nervously, "Are you sure that we should do th…" Ben shut the door on him before he could finish. I glared after him. Riley sat on a box in the back and donned the headset that would enable him to communicate with Ben.

While we drove, Ben had at least filled us in a little more. I sighed slightly, it was hard for Riley and I to assist him when we didn't even know what was going on.

"Riley," Ben's voice came in slightly distorted, but quickly cleared up, "Can you hear me?"

"Unfortunately, yeah," Riley responded, "We're all set in here." He gave me a wink, showing that he had referred to both of us. I nodded in acknowledgement.

Focusing, I could bring Ben into my mind's eye as he walked up to the service entrance. The guard there was instructing two of the wealthy guests to go to the front entrance, telling them that they would need to present their invitations and show ID. Ben showed the fake ID card he'd made, which was clipped to his jumpsuit. The guard barely glanced at it, before allowing Ben inside.

While I was watching Ben, I had been trying to put a 'tracker' on him. It's just a way of slipping a little part of my mind into his consciousness, without him ever noticing, and it would allow me to see him and though him. Because there was distance between us, I was having a hard time getting it to hold. Finally, it worked. Two images flashed in my mind, one was as if I was watching Ben, and the other was what Ben was seeing.

Ben walked though the door to an X-ray like the ones used in airports, and placed his tool-belt on the conveyor that ran thought the machine. The man running the machine greeted him. Ben replied with "Howdy." He seemed nervous, and also, like he was thinking _'this should be harder'_.

Once he was inside, Ben slipped off into a bathroom and removed the jumpsuit, selected the battery-powered screwdriver from his tool-belt, and hid the jumpsuit and other tools in the trashcan. He paused to adjust his suit and hair.

Riley asked in a teasing voice, "How do you look?"

"Not bad," Ben admitted.

"Mazel tov," Riley congratulated. I giggled.

When Ben entered the hall where the gala was being held, I could see that it was the exhibit room, now thronged with people from the higher classes of society all over the world. _This_, I thought to myself as I saw people from different countries strolling together and talking, _could be an example for the so-called United Nations_. I was shaken from my thoughts as Ben approached Doctor Chase with two glasses of Champaign.

Abigail Chase wasn't even looking in his direction until Ben held out the glass and said, "For you."

She turned, startled, "Oh, Mister Brown!" her voice had a significant tone of _'what-are-you-doing-here?'_

"Doctor Chase," Ben returned, smiling slightly.

Abigail voiced her thoughts, "What are you doing here?" she asked him good naturedly.

"Is that that hot girl?" Riley demanded Ben over the headset, startling me, "How does she look?"

"Riley!" I hissed, "This is hardly the time or the place!" he gave me a smile that told me he was kidding. I groaned, "How recently did you get out of high school?" I asked; part serious, but mostly joking. The smile became a mock frown, and Riley, pretending to pout over being hurt turned back to his computer

"Thank-you for your wonderful gift," Abigail was saying, I remembered Ben saying he had sent Abigail a George Washington campaign button to fill the one hole in her collection, but, first he had dipped it in a solution of water and a yellow powder designed to show up under a black light, much like a watermark stylus – a black-light pen – used in museums and galleries to indicate exhibits needing cleaning or restoration. What Ben hoped it would do was get on Dr Chase's fingers and then, when she accessed the elevator, she would leave marks on the keys for her password, and we would able to figure out what her password was using anagram software on Riley's computer.

"Oh, you did get it?" Ben asked, excited. Another thing that had gone according to plan. "Oh good, okay."

"Yes, thank-you." Dr Chase smiled genuinely, "You know, I couldn't really accept something like that normally, but…I really want it." She laughed, and so did Ben, though I could see in his eyes that he was dying to get out of there. I glanced at Riley, who was rolling his eyes.

"Well, you needed it," Ben told her.

"Tell Ben to stop flirting and get back to business," I instructed Riley, who chuckled and nodded.

"Come on, Romeo," he told Ben sarcastically, "Get outta there." Ben, however, wasn't listening.

"I have been wondering, though," Abigail continued, "What the engraving indicated on the pipe that Bigfoot took…"

Ben opened his mouth to ad lib an answer. But was fortunately interrupted by another man in a tuxedo, who was also carrying two glasses of Champaign. "Hi," he said to Ben, and offered Abigail one of the two glasses, "Here you go." He paused when he saw she already had one.

"Dr Herbert this is Mr. Brown," Abigail introduced. The men greeted each other.

"Who's the stiff?" Riley asked over the headset. I giggled, having absolutely no thoughts as to the contrary. The man was eyeing Ben as if he might attack, and when he looked at Abigail, I could tell what he was thinking. I groaned inwardly and rolled my eyes.

Riley covered his mouth piece and whispered, 'What's up?"

"The 'stiff' is eyeing Doctor Chase," I said simply. Riley chuckled, clamping a hand over his mouth so it wouldn't come through his headset.

Ben reached out to take Abigail's Champaign glass, "Why don't you let me take that…so you can take that off his hands?" He grasped the glass purposefully by the bottom as he took it from her hand. Abigail then took the glass from Dr Herbert, who gave her a cheesy grin.

"A toast?" Ben suggested, "To High Treason."

I looked at Riley and mouthed 'what?' Riley just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders unknowingly.

"After all," Ben continued, "That's what these men were committing when they sighed the declaration. Had we lost the war they would've been hanged, beheaded, drawn and quartered, and – oh! Oh – my personal favorite – had their entrails cut out and _burned_."

Riley looked from the image of Ben to me with wide, confused eyes. "Ouch," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. Riley gave a bit of a smile. "Ben's not very good with people, is he?" I asked.

"Nope," Riley muttered, "And he isn't a very good toastmaster either."

There was a very awkward pause as Dr Chase and Dr Herbert stared at Ben, most likely determining he had lost it. "So," Ben continued, "Here's to the men who did what was considered wrong, in order to do what they knew was right," he paused, and repeated, "What they_ knew_ was right."

I smiled, that part was certainly true. My mind did a bit of a flashback, and I remembered sitting in Master Belarius'class as he lectured on the differences between human and angelic ethics. _'For humans, there are two kinds of right and wrong…'_

I shook my head to bring myself back to the present. Ben's toast having finished, the three raised their glasses to their lips, Abigail and her admirer took sips of their drinks, but Ben proceeded to drain his entire glass in one swallow. This earned him yet another look that deemed him crazy. "Well," Ben said a little awkwardly, "Good night."

"Good night," the other two echoed him. They continued to stare after him as Ben left.

Ben hurried down the hallway, placing the glass he had emptied on the tray of a passing waiter. He poured the Champaign from Abigail's glass down a drinking fountain as he passed it. He pulled a plastic freezer bag out of his pocket, and slipped into a men's room. There was no camera access anymore, so I closed my eyes, and began relating back to Riley what was happening as I saw it in my mind.

Using a baby-change station for a worktable, Ben produced Iodine, Krazyglue, and cotton balls. "This better work," Riley informed him. Ben placed a few drops of iodine on a one of the cotton balls, and placed it inside the bag with the glass. He then squirted glue into the bag and quickly sealed it shut. The Iodine and the glue reacted together, and turned the fingerprints Dr Chase had left on the glass violet.

"How does it look?" Riley asked, directing his question to either of us who would answer.

"It's working," Ben and I said at almost the same time. Then he repeated, as if to confirm what he was seeing, "It's working."

"Unbelievable," Riley said, grinning.

"Nothing's unbelievable," I countered.

Ben had cut the thumb off a latex glove, and was now rolling it down on top of his own thumb. Taking the glass carefully, he pressed the latex over Dr Chase's thumbprint, and the image transferred onto it.

I opened my eyes as Ben exited the bathroom and Riley was able to find him again on camera. He made his way to the elevator, trying to look like he belonged there. Casually, he placed his thumb on the sensor for the elevator. The device beeped, and scanned the latex thumbprint. "C'mon," Riley was murmuring, "Work." The device beeped again and read 'Chase, Abigail Access Granted.' The elevator dinged and the door slid open. Ben stepped calmly inside and examined the elevator's interior as the door slid closed again.

"We're in the elevator," Ben reported. Again, we couldn't see him on camera.

"Okay." Riley responded, "I'm gonna turn of the security cameras. Ready? In five, four, three…now." he entered the command, and the recorded feed started playing. The most the guards would've seen was their monitors blink and continue to show nothing out of the ordinary.

"Ben Gates," Riley determined, taking out the pencil he was holding in his mouth, "You are now the Invisible Man." I giggled.

We saw the elevator reach the floor, the doors open, and Ben step out. He walked quickly down the hallway, until he reached the door to the Preservation Room. "I'm here."

"Give me the letters for her password," Riley said as Ben activated the keyboard, "What do you got for me?" Ben grinned, "Hit me with it," Riley said.

"A – E – F – G – L – O – R – V – Y" as Ben said the letters; Riley entered them into his computer. "Anagrams being listed… okay," what we got were meaningless words, none of them looked like a password that Dr Chase would use, "Top results: 'a glove fry', 'a very golf', 'Fargo levy', 'gravy floe', 'valey frog', also 'ago fly rev', uh… 'grove fly a', 'are fly gov', 'era fly gov', 'elf gov ray'."

"Riley," I interrupted, "this isn't going to work."

"It's 'Valley Forge'," Ben said suddenly.

"Valley For… I don't have that on my computer."

"It's 'Valley Forge'; she pressed 'E' and 'L' twice." Ben punched in the letters and the door opened. "We're in," Ben informed us. We soon saw him on camera. Ben pointed at the camera dramatically.

"Hello," Riley said in his comedic accent, causing me to giggle. Ben began to remove the Declaration from its case, "Ben," Riley determined, "You're doing great."

Something was popping up in the back of my mind, a little mental red flag. But as I didn't know quite what it was, I ignored it. Instead, I tried to lessen the tension. "Riley, did you know if rearrange the letters in 'Astronomer' you'll get 'no more stars'?"

"Really?" Riley typed 'Astronomer' into the computer, and waited while the anagrams came up, he smiled, "Hey, it works. Cool."

I smiled, but couldn't help feeling that same anxiety growing stronger. It was almost like the feeling you get when you know you forgot something, but can't remember what it is you've forgotten. Knowing to listen to my instincts, I told Riley, "I think we need to get out of here ASAP." He nodded.

"Ben," he said into the mouthpiece, "Pick it up."

Ben shook his head; there wasn't any way to make this job go faster. "You got about one…"Riley started to say… then the live feed from the security cameras dissolved into static.

Riley looked terrified. "I lost my feed!"

"What!" Ben's voice demanded over the headset.

"I lost my feed, Ben! I don't know where anyone is!" Riley reached over to check that his cables were still connected, "I have nothing. Ben, I have no…Ben, I have nothing!" Riley was seconds away from hyperventilating, "Get out of there!" he yelled into the mouthpiece, "Get out of there now!"

"I'm taking the whole thing," Ben told him, "I'll get it out in the elevator."

"What are you talking…? Is it heavy?" We didn't get a response.

Riley was panicking, "Riley!" I yelled, snapping my fingers to get his attention, "Look at me!" He obeyed. "Breathe, okay? Calm down." I closed my eyes, but found that the distress signal from my mind was hindering my abilities to open my tracker. I would see Ben for a second, and then loose him again. I let out a growl of impatience, and tried harder.

"What?" Riley demanded, "What is it?"

"My tracker's not working," I said exasperatedly, eyes opening, "My own senses are blocking it out."

"What? How?"

"My instincts are telling me something's wrong, and they're telling me so 'loudly', that none of my other abilities will work."

"What's wrong?" just then, the sound of gunfire came in from Riley's headset. Riley looked around in bewilderment, "What was that?"

I closed my eyes and tried to focus, "Work," I pleaded. I caught a glimpse of Ben pulling back into the elevator and of a group of people at the end of the hallway. More shots rang out. I lost the image.

"Who's shooting!" Riley shouted, again panicking. "Are you still there?" nothing "Ben?"

"I'm in the elevator," Ben's voice came in through the headset, "Ian's here, he was the one doing the shooting."

"I hate that guy," Riley grumbled.

Riley determined that Ian must've high jacked the video feed, I, meanwhile, couldn't find any way to get more than a fleeting image. I gave up, on account of Riley was again bordering on hyperventilating. "Riley, relax," I instructed, "I'm sure he'll be out any second."

"Try and find him again," Riley pleaded. I nodded; I caught a brief image of Ben hiding in the gift shop, before my panicked mind lost him again. I told Riley where he was. "What's he doing?" Riley exclaimed.

"I think he's hiding from Dr Chase."

Riley climbed into the driver's seat, so that the instant Ben emerged, he would be ready to go. I sat in the passenger seat, trying to reconnect my mind with Ben's. I was finding it increasingly hopeless, because the more I tried – and failed – the more frustrated I became, and the quicker I would loose the images until finally I couldn't pick them up at all. This was slightly frightening for me because an ability I relied on quite heavily was no longer working.

"Where are you, Ben?" Riley questioned in a sing-song sort of voice, hands tapping on the wheel nervously, "Where are you?"

"Stop talking!" came Ben's voice over the headset, startling us both, "Start the van!" Riley did just that, however any relief he had been feeling as he saw Ben coming out of the building was quickly replaced by an even deeper sense of panic.

We saw Abigail Chase coming out the building, following Ben. "Ben, the…the mean D…Declaration lady's behind you." Riley stammered into his mouthpiece.

"Oh, it's you. Hello," Came over the headset, obviously she had found him.

"Mister Brown, what's going on? What's that?"

"It's a souvenir," Ben replied shakily.

"Really?" Dr Chase demanded.

"Stop chatting and get in the van," Riley ordered through clenched teeth.

"At least we know where he is," I offered, trying to make the best of the situation. I knew that what had sent my senses off had been Ian, but Ian was no longer a threat. Still, I had that buzzing in the back of my skull that said something was wrong. We were going to be in a lot of trouble if we didn't move_ now_.

Ben was still making casual small-talk, "Did you enjoy the party?"

"Yeah," Abigail said, then the alarm from the building went off.

Riley sunk down even lower in his seat, "Oh, My God."

"Oh yeah," I agreed.

So did Abigail, but for different reasons, "Oh, my God, you did not…. Security! Over here! Give me that!"

"It's yours, take it!" Ben exclaimed, he dashed around and jumped into the van. "Go!" he ordered Riley as he leapt into the front seat. I dived into the back just in time to avoid being sat on.

"We can't just let her go!" Riley protested.

"We can," Ben corrected, "Go!" Riley put the van in gear and started to drive off. "Wait!" Ben shouted suddenly. "No, hold it! Hold it!" Dr Chase was being approached by a… catering truck?

"Wha…?" Riley wondered.

"Oh, bad…" Ben determined as figures jumped out of the truck and approached Abigail, "Bad, bad, bad."


End file.
